


A Long Cold Road From There To Here

by LibKat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Based on Season 7 finale rumors., Canon compliant incestuous relationship, F/M, Induced miscarriage/abortion, Possible spoilers for Season 7 finale., UST for Jaime/Brienne, not cersei friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11918652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibKat/pseuds/LibKat
Summary: Jaime faces hard truths and decides his future at the end of the events of season 7.





	A Long Cold Road From There To Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Season 7 finale rumors and spoilers. I wanted to get it posted before it gets Jossed.
> 
> The possibility of an induced miscarriage is an important plot point. Stay away if this is a trigger issue for you.
> 
> I got tired of yelling at the TV for the writers to get Jaime's story arc restarted. So I wrote this instead.
> 
> Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones and these characters belong to a whole bunch of people who are not me. I will return them undamaged when I am finished playing with them.

Jaime Lannister grimaced as he barely parried the strike from Bronn’s sword. Bronn had been doing his best to bruise and abuse Jaime during their training ever since the battle on the Blackwater Rush.

Jaime admitted to himself that he could have shown more gratitude to Bronn for saving him, first from the dragon’s fire and then from drowning in the unexpectedly deep waters of the river. But apologizing was not the Lannister way.

Bronn did not know that Jaime had returned the favor and saved him recently. Explaining himself and demanding gratitude was not _Jaime’s_ way.

Cersei had been serious when she asked Jaime how he intended to punish Bronn for the meeting with Tyrion. It had taken some fast talking to convince Cersei that they still needed Bronn. Losing a commander like Randall Tarly was a blow it would be hard to recover from. Their army needed leadership and Bronn had shown himself capable. And as a former’ish sell sword, Bronn could provide guidance dealing with the mercenaries Cersei was determined to hire.

Jaime had stepped up his training schedule with Bronn, meeting at their old haunt overlooking Blackwater Bay. It wasn’t completely beyond the eyes of Qyburn’s spies, but the little and big birds couldn’t creep too close without being obvious and the rocks, the water and the clang of metal on metal masked sound. Jaime had found they could speak without being overheard during their sparring, when Bronn wasn’t beating him bloody.

Today’s conversation would have to be brief and very, very private if Jaime hoped to keep his head.

Their swords met and Jaime stepped into the other man’s body, the steel screeching down the length of Bronn’s weapon.

“I need you to do something for me. And if you are discovered it will mean both our lives.”

“What now, damn you? Fucking Lannisters, generous with demand and tightfisted with rewards.” Bronn spat out as they grappled for a moment before their swords sprang apart again.

The two men circled each other closely, each looking for an opportunity to attack. Jaime noted absently that Bronn wasn’t finding gaping holes in his defense so often any more.

Jaime took the offensive and brought them close enough to speak softly again as they danced around each other, attacking and defending in a show of swordsmanship that was hopefully good enough to fool any lurking spectators.

“I need to you to get whatever it is that women use to rid themselves of a pregnancy. Not just moon tea. Something for when the seed has taken root.”

“What the seven hells d’ya need that for?” Bronn’s voice rose in surprise. Both men looked around to see if it had been overheard.

Then enlightenment dawned on Bronn’s face and his voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Fuck me. You can’t mean to …”

Jaime interrupted before Bronn could finish his sentence. “Can you get it? Discreetly, or we are both dead.”

“I know a few whores in Flea Bottom who keep tansy oil around for slips ups. Wouldn’t be hard to lay hands on it. Happens I need some myself. There’s a laundry maid who wants to present me with a BlackWaters bastard. I could get double the dose from one of my acquaintances.  But there's a notion going about that I’m being well paid for my many services to the crown.  I’ll need a sizable bribe for the washer wench.”

Jaime winced at the term wench. What would Brienne think of the action he was considering?

“Do it then. We’ll put on a show commiserating a bit over your laundry situation when we take a rest. That should be explanation enough for any birds listening in.”

***

Jaime walked slowly back to his chambers. He was bruised in body from Bronn’s pummeling, but even more wounded in spirit.

Another child grew in Cersei’s belly, another hostage to her lust for power and need for adoration.

In years past, he would have been overjoyed to openly claim Cersei’s babe as his own, to be her acknowledged consort. Even the shame of being equivalent to a king's concubine rather than a husband would have seemed a small price to pay. He would have taken Cersei any way he could have had her. Indeed he had done so, giving up everything for the love he thought they shared.

Now Jaime had what he had always desired and the taste of it was ashes in his mouth.

There had been a moment when Jaime hoped things might be different, that they could be parents together and love this babe and each other as he had once imagined. He took his lover in his arms and tried to let his doubts slip away.

And then came the knife.

“Never betray me again” she had said, the first time she had so openly threatened him. And finally Jaime knew. He knew the truth Tyrion had tried to tell him for years, the truth Olenna Tyrell had taunted him with. The golden girl that he had loved was gone, if she had ever existed at all. What was left was a gaping maw of ambition that would devour everything in it’s path, devour the world if need be, trying to satisfy a lust for power that was far greater than any feeling Cersei had ever had for him.

And they were bringing another innocent babe into that.

Would this babe be like Myrcella, a lovely victim, a sweet pawn in the game of thrones?

Would it be another Tommen, gentle and weak, suicide the only way to be free of his mother in the end?

Or would this babe be another Joffrey, vain and cruel, twisted by his mother’s doting until he believed he could do as he liked with never any consequences to pay?

Did the circumstances of a babe’s conception played any role in who that child became?

The passion Cersei brought to their bed that night was engendered not by love or want but by sentencing the Sand girl to a slow, lingering death before her own mother’s eyes. Cersei’s need to fuck had been so enflamed by that victory that she had first sunk to her knees and taken him with her mouth, an act that she abhorred. Jaime could count on the fingers of his remaining hand the number of times she had willingly sucked his cock. She had always followed the act with asking something vile of him in return. But this time, she had only wanted Jaime.

For years they had coupled in the shadows and, before the aftershocks of his climax had abated, he had been pushed away lest they be discovered. But finally a morning came after the night before and Jaime had woken in his lover’s bed, surrounded by the scents of sex and her. He had seen the sunrise shine over her still beautiful face. And he told himself that he would be content with that. Honor and glory were for younger men with cleaner souls. He would help his sister win this final war and he would rebuild their world at her side and he would be satisfied with that.

If he had hoped for a brief time that he might have something, be something more, might regain a piece of the boy who only wanted to be like the great knights of legend, well, that had been a beautiful dream. And now he was awake.

It was on the march to Highgarden that Jaime had learned what Cersei had been doing before she so passionately overcame his hesitation and took him into her arms (her mouth, her cunt, her bed). He had gone aside and swallowed hard as his gorge rose. He had no sympathy for Ellaria Sand or her bitch of a daughter. He would have killed them himself given the chance and felt satisfaction that Myrcella’s murder had been avenged. But torture and murder as an aphrodisiac smacked of Joffrey, of the Mad King. Was Cersei so far gone as that?

The seeds of paranoia had taken root in her and were growing to make everyone either a pawn to be used or an enemy to be defeated.  There would be no middle ground.

How could he allow a child to be born into that, to suckle madness and cruelty along with mother’s milk?

Jaime’s soul was black and damned to one of the seven hells already for taking foul actions for good reasons. He had violated his oath and killed his king to save a city. He had maimed a boy to protect the lives of his own children. Could he end the babe growing in his lover’s womb to save it from the horror of it’s own mother, to save the world from the horror the child might grow into?

Jaime did not know if he had it in him to do such a thing. But if moment came when he did, if he wasn't killed during the meeting with the Dragon Queen, he wanted to be prepared.

***

The meeting at the Dragon Pit had shaken Jaime. He had only just come to accept the reality of the dragons and now he had to accept that grumpkins and snarks were real as well. Real and marching on the kingdom destroying everything in their path.

After seeing the dead man Jon Snow had brought from the North, Jaime knew that all the destruction his family had wrought in the kingdoms, destruction Jaime had started in a broken tower at Winterfell, had opened the way for death to march on the living. And death was very close to winning.

The grave danger humanity faced had not prevented grudges from being aired.

Cersei and Daenerys had exchanged exquisitely polite insults, cutting at each other with words sharp and pointed as a rapier. The Hound and the Mountain simmered with a violence ready to boil over into bloodshed at the least provocation.   Euron Greyjoy capered about manically, taunting first his nephew, then the Snow lad, then the Dragon Queen.  The first consensus arrived at was that someone should shove his driftwood crown down his throat.

And there was Brienne standing on Jon Snow's side, staring Jaime down from across the table, disappointment in her eyes. Her greeting had been so brief, so cold.

The negotiations had been ugly but after the wight almost killed Cersei despite the might of the Kingsguard protecting her, she had agreed to lend the remaining strength of her armies to the fight for the living and everyone had departed in a state of truce if not of peace.

Jaime had tried to catch Brienne, to have a private word now that they would be fighting for the same cause, but the party for Winterfell departed as soon as the agreements were reached. The Northerners and the Dragons didn’t trust enough in Lannister good will to spend any more time within the walls of King’s Landing than necessary.

A few hours after their return to the Red Keep, as the stars shone in the cold, clear sky, Cersei sent for him.

Jaime met Qyburn exiting her chamber, his ferret face smirking as they passed.

“We have many preparations before we go North, Qyburn. I’ll need to speak with you about the state of our grain stores as soon as possible."

“We haven’t so much to do as all that, Ser Jaime. Her Grace will clarify matters.”

The words and the thin lipped smile chilled far more than the cold wind off the bay.

“Jaime, my love,” Cersei’s voice slurred out. “Come and join me.”

Dear gods, supper was barely over and she was already three quarters to insensate. Jaime poured himself a drop of wine and replenished Cersei’s glass from the nearly empty decanter.

“Tell me truly now, what did you think of the Dragon bitch? I was surprised. She is accounted such a great beauty, yet she is so small and she’s seen far too much sun. That tanned skin looks awful with her ridiculous white hair.” Cersei smoothed her hand down her own long, white neck. “Her figure is overripe. There is no elegance to her.”

“I was too busy looking at her Unsullied, her Dothraki and her _dragons_ to spend much time noticing her.”

“But you should have, Jaime, you should have. Who can say if you will ever meet with her again?” Wine sloshed in the goblet and the drops disappeared against the fabric of yet another severe black gown.

_Does she think if she dresses like Father she can command like him?_

“Younger yes, but hardly more beautiful.” Cersei muttered into her glass.

“Did you fail to take note of Daenerys Stormborn, queen of a bunch of dirty savages because you were too busy trying to catch the eye of that great beast of yours. Those big cow’s eyes, they mooned so over you at Joffrey’s wedding. They were less admiring today.” Cersei's blade of a tongue struck true.

“I was busy trying to keep the situation from exploding in our faces, Cersei. Daenerys could have sacked the city and killed us all with her armies alone. I had attention to devote to little else.” But he had felt the frozen north in Brienne’s gaze.

“Qyburn’s spies at Winterfell tell him that there is a wilding chieftain who is pursuing your pet aurochs. It’s rumored that he regularly fucks bears, so the cunt of Tarth would be only slightly less appealing, I’m sure.”

Jaime clutched his goblet hard and held his tongue. It never paid to rise to Cersei’s goading where Brienne of Tarth was concerned.

“Perhaps if she survives the war, I’ll make a gift of her to my Hand.  He's wanted her since you first returned from Riverrun, trailing her behind you like a great, ugly dog.  She would make an excellent pair with Ser Gregor once she is made docile by Qyburn’s … treatments.”

“If Brienne survives the war, it will be as our ally, Cersei. She is Sansa Stark’s sworn sword.”

“Oh, I’ll have that little red haired slut as well. She’ll pay for what she did to Joffrey. She’ll pay for humiliating my family.”

“Sansa did nothing to Joffrey, Cersei. You know that.” Her memory became selective the drunker she became. Jaime had litany of facts he regularly needed to remind her of. “Sansa is the Lady of Winterfell now. She is the sister of a king once more, bastard though he may be. You will need to moderate your tongue or this alliance will crumble before it has even begun.”

The empty goblet smashed down on the table.

“ _I_ must hold my tongue? _I_ am the queen of the seven kingdoms. _I_ sit on the Iron Throne. I hold my tongue for no man, not any more. Never again.”

“You are an even greater idiot than I took you for, Jaime, if you think I’m truly going to send my army to aid those northern rebels and that Targaryen bitch. They will wait until they all freeze before they receive one man of mine to reinforce them.”

“Qyburn has explained it all to me. We will let them battle whatever those things coming down from the Wall are. With dragon fire they will be victorious eventually. But at great cost. The Dothraki and the Unsullied will die in droves from the weather alone. They have not supplies, nor clothing, nor experience with a true winter. By the time the white walkers are defeated, their armies will be reduced to a size that I can easily defeat.”

Appalled at her arrogance, her stupidity, Jaime spoke. “And if they don’t defeat the white walkers, what then? What will we do when the dead march on King’s Landing, Cersei?”

"We still have quite a lot of wildfire. Qyburn is certain that we can use it to defeat them, even if we have to burn the city to the ground to do it. My court will retreat to Casterly Rock if need be.”

And there it was. His sister was every bit as mad as Aerys and twice as dangerous.

“Oh are you going to cry out that I must not do it, Jaime?  Will you run me through, _Kingslayer_? You spineless fool. I will have my victory. No one will take it from me. And my child will rule after me, rule like the lion he will be, rule over the sheep like you. You do not deserve the name of Lannister.” 

“Fill my goblet again and then get out. I have no more need of you.”  Her anger seemed to have depleted her and the affects of the wine overcame Cersei.

Jaime took the glass and turned his back. This was the moment. He would add the tansy oil to the heavy Rhoynish red that Cersei preferred. In her drunken state, she would never notice the taste.

But he could not do it.

_Forgive me, child. I cannot end you before you have even begun. I will do what I can to protect you and let you come into a world free of monsters and madness. Even if it means I must take your mother from you one day soon, in order to save your soul. But first I must help to save the world. I must go north. Mayhaps if I catch up to the party from Winterfell, I might even survive to return for you._

Jaime slid the small vial back into his pocket and poured the wine. Cersei’s stupor had advanced in those few seconds and she was almost asleep.

"I’ll send for your maids, Your Grace.” Jaime made his final bow to his sister, his lover, his queen and left the room.  
Several of Cersei’s cropped haired young attendants were waiting outside the chamber door.

“The queen is ready for you to assist her to bed.”

As Jaime walked away, he did not notice the one extra girl standing in the shadows.

***

The maid in the black dress followed the man people called the Kingslayer to his chambers and waited. It was only a short time before he exited again, dressed in a boiled leather jerkin and riding trousers.  There was no armor of gold, no crimson, just plain, warm traveling clothes. He carried bulging saddlebags slung over his shoulder. The only thing that marked him Lannister was the sword he wore on his right hip with it’s elaborate gold and ruby lion. The Goldenhand walked to one of the secret passages in the holdfast wall and opened it quietly. That passage came out close to the stables, where the Goldenhand kept a horse prepared to ride at all times of the day and night.

A man who had been called Jaqen H’ghar the last time he was in Westeros had gained entry to the Red Keep wearing the face of Tycho Nestoris. That traitor had abandoned all principles and invested in the slave trade, sealing his fate with the Sealords of Braavos. But his face had been of use in evaluating the state of the Westorosi monarchy. The face of the maid had been even better for seeing the Mad Queen in all her truth.

Entering the chamber of the Goldenhand, the discarded vial was found, still containing the tansy oil. A man would dispose of it later. It was not needed. Events were already in motion. The wine that had been a gift from Iron Bank had a far more subtle mixture added and the Mad Queen had been overindulging in it for days.

The final gift of the Many Faced God was not a man’s to give to the woman called Cersei Lannister. That honor belonged to a girl who was Arya Stark of Winterfell. But the Mad Queen would be neutralized. She could not be allowed to prevent the Goldenhand from making his way north to his destiny. The great red priestess of Asshai had seen all in the flames and commissioned the Faceless Men to take up this task. While the child never meant to be was ending, a man would eliminate the maker of monsters who advised the queen. By the time any pursuit could be organized the Goldenhand would be well away, off to join his true mate and fight this war that was the purpose for their existence, both of them crafted by the Warrior aspect of the Many Faced God to fulfill a great task.

Perhaps when a man was finished in Kings Landing, he would go to the north as well. Go north and see exactly what the Many Faced God had in store for Jaime Lannister, the Goldenhand and his maid who brings the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Cersei backing out of the alliance, the miscarriage and Jaime going north alone were pretty widely reported rumors/spoilers. Adding in the tansy plot and the Faceless Men got me from there to here.
> 
> Please be kind and leave a comment or constructive criticism.


End file.
